


A Gift of Ravens

by OneHandedBooks



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Conflicted!Will, Dark Alana, Empathy, Episode: s03e09 And the Woman Clothed with the Sun…, F/M, Hallucinations, Light Bondage, Longing, Masturbation, Mild D/s, Misery, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneHandedBooks/pseuds/OneHandedBooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>A flipbook of images opened behind his eyes set to the sound of sharp heels clicking down the halls of Quantico and into his classroom. He saw himself giving a lecture on biting in sexual assault to an empty room when she walked in trailing shadows. Alana that was, soft and lovely and kind.  Alana that is, as hard and beautiful as pottery mended with gold. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift of Ravens

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this is almost pure filth.

Will shivered on the steps of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, popping the collar of his wool coat against the winter wind, and pulling his charcoal scarf closer around his neck. Freddie’s camera caught him coming out, her shutterclick snapping off the granite steps. Will was oblivious to her; deeply shaken by his reunion with Alana and struggling to shake off the persistent flutter of Hannibal’s prying mind.

When he got back to the motel, Will spread the Chicago and Buffalo case files out on the scratched wood desk, poured himself two fingers of whisky, and got back to work. Jack had offered to put him up in a nicer hotel, closer to Quantico, but Will had declined, preferring even the small measure of privacy afforded by this back alley bedsit with its cheap paneling and its cheaper bed.

Hours later and no closer to the Tooth Fairy, Will dialed home, but the phone rang off the hook. Unable to reach Molly, Will poured himself another drink and started running the case files again. Over and over Will visited their houses. Over and over he walked the lines of their deaths, but made no further progress. Drained and drunk and fighting despair, Will decided to clean up and start over.

The motel bathroom was full of steam. It rose up, cutting him off from the rest of the room, from the rest of his mind. The hot water turned full force beat down hard against his back, draining the tension from his muscles. Will sighed and pressed his arm against the shower tile, leaned his forehead against his elbow.

A flipbook of images opened behind his eyes set to the sound of sharp heels clicking down the halls of Quantico and into his classroom. He saw himself giving a lecture on biting in sexual assault to an empty room when she walked in trailing shadows. Alana that was, soft and lovely and kind.  Alana that is, as hard and beautiful as pottery mended with gold.

He walked around the table to meet her, dropping his notes on its polished surface. Her warmth swirled around him as she stepped into his space and cupped his cheek in her palm. Her hands were dressed in delicate, paperthin, black leather gloves she’d never worn. Long dark hair coiled around her face like oil. She swept her thumb over Will’s cheekbone and he blushed.

“You’re warm,” she said.

“I tend to run hot,” he replied, eyes flitting over her face shyly. In this incarnation though, he doesn’t pull away from her as he says it.

“You do, don’t you?” she said, smiling with gentle concern. She slid one hand down his face and curved delicately around his throat. He swallowed nervously against the light pressure. She ran her other hand over the buttons of his old plaid shirt. “It’s too hot for this, don’t you think?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Alana, it’s too hot for this shirt.”

“Take it off then.”

Will looked away, blushing again, and unbuttoned his shirt with shaking hands, shrugged it off his scarred shoulders. The cloth fell down his back and caught around his wrists. Alana stopped him before he could unbutton the cuffs. “Leave it. I like you like this.”

Black crackling energy poured from her. She carried the rain when she moved. She was soaked in water, then blood, then nothing at all. She circled him, running her hands over his bare chest. As she stepped behind him and he lost sight of her, the flip book shuffled. He saw Alana in blue, in bloody red, in forest green inked with shadows. He felt her lips and her laughter against his skin, the savage points of her teeth. He heard her laughing, whispering, murmuring. The trip-trap of hooves. The beating of enormous wings. For a moment, he felt himself crowned with antlers and Alana’s hands on his back like raven’s claws. Sharp-tipped fingers like bare branches traced two thick vertical scars on his back that had not been there a moment earlier. There was a sense of pale feathers falling all around them like snow.

“Is this where he took your wings?” Alana murmured against his back.

“What?”

“Did he cut them off or did you?”

“Alana…what?”

Will blinked rapidly. For a moment, Alana was gone and he was aware of the shower again, steam and tile.

“Come back to me, Will,” Alana called distantly. “Come back.”

“Where else would I go?” Will whispered, his classroom reappearing.

Alana stood in front of him and put one finger under his chin to lift it.  She smiled at him and tried to catch his eye. “You have everywhere to go.”

Will looked away fitfully.

“Poor, Will. So tired and twisted up. You don’t really want to think any more do you?”

He ducked his chin and shook his head. His cheeks pink. “No, Alana.”  

A phrase echoed through his mind, something from an old book: teach me to love and not to love. Teach me to be still.

Alana put her hand on Will’s chest and walked him back a few steps until his thighs hit his desk.  She combed her fingers through his curls, fisted her hand sharply, and tilted his head back. Will sighed and exposed his throat gratefully. She leaned in and licked over his pulse thrumming rapidly under his skin. She pressed closer and he felt her nudging his legs apart with her knee. She leaned into him, pushing him back until the edge of the desk bit into his flesh. He let Alana slide her slender leg further between his and push tightly up into the vee of his thighs. He gasped as she pressed against him.

Alana bent closer and whispered in his ear, “I can make it all go away, Will. For a little while. If you ask me to. If you let me give you what you want.”

Will relaxed into her grip, balanced his bound hands behind him on the table, and strained towards her in sudden and shameful abandon. “Yes. Please, Alana. I want that. I want…”

“Sweet man," Alana said in Molly's voice.  "Tell me what you want."

Desperate longing overwhelmed him then. ( _i want to go home. i want my family, my dogs. i want molly in my arms, in my bed. i want to stop the tooth fairy. i want to save the tooth fairy. i want to go back. before it was too late. i want to go home)_

Will shook his head, pressed his lips together to stop the flow of words from spilling out. There was too much.

“Let me guess…” Alana teased, pulling him back towards her out of this dark blur. “You want to… kiss me?”

Will smiled wryly. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since we met.” He looked up at her sidelong. “You’re very kissable.”

Alana gave him one of her lovely warm smiles then, the ones that filled him with butterflies, looking at him as though there was no one else in the room, in the world. She stroked his face delicately with one hand, the thin leather glove smoothing over his beard, and he turned his face into her touch. She outlined his mouth with the tip of one finger, tracing over the seam of his lips. Will’s heart quickened and he twisted his bound wrists restlessly. He looked helplessly into Alana’s blue eyes and opened his mouth slightly, curved his clever tongue around her finger, and drew it into his mouth. He bit down slightly, tasting the salt of the leather, feeling the material give under his teeth. He felt Alana shudder and shift her hips minutely against him in response.

Will’s eyes fluttered shut, eyelashes dark as soot on his cheeks. He tilted his head and offered his mouth to her. Alana leaned toward him. She pulled his mouth open a little bit more with her finger and brushed her lips back and forth over his.

“Alana,” Will murmured.

“Will,” Alana whispered against him.

Alana pulled her hand back from Will’s mouth and wove her fingers into his hair to hold him still for her. She licked gently into his mouth and Will hummed happily, pressing back against her and sliding his tongue against hers. Alana drew back slightly with a smile as Will leaned toward her and chased her kiss automatically.

“Good?”

“Oh yes, Alana.”

“More?”

“Please.”

Alana pressed her mouth more firmly to Will’s and drew her inky black hands down over his shoulders, his arms, his chest. She flowed around him like mercury in water. Everywhere she touched him turned warm and then sharp by degrees, as though she were dragging a handful of tacks over his skin. Will broke their kiss and looked down expecting to see himself covered in tiny pinpricks, but there was nothing. Only a pink flush spreading from his cheeks down his chest.

Alana lifted Will’s chin with her finger and directed his attention back to her. “Will?”

“Yes, Alana,” he sighed, closing his eyes and parting his lips for her again.

Alana leaned into Will and took his mouth, kissing him until his lips were as pink and flushed as his chest. She caressed the broken curves of his shoulders, her hands like burning pitch. He yielded to her touch, desperate to give her everything she could take from him.

As they kissed, Alana dropped her hands to Will’s belt. She unbuckled it and pulled it off, giving it an enterprising look. She folded it in half and snapped it lightly against her own thigh, which set Will’s heart racing. He bit his lip and waited to see if she would strike him with it. He was strangely disappointed when she tossed it aside.

She pulled his trousers and tight grey cotton shorts off and shoved them away. She stroked over his sides, his thighs, his bottom. She pushed and pulled him until he was sitting unbalanced on the edge of the table.

Alana wrapped her hand around his hard length and stroked deliberately, watching her soft leather glove slide over him.  Then she stopped to pull it off so she could touch him barehanded. The glove parted from her skin like viscous tar and disappeared before it hit the floor.

Will tipped his head back and closed his eyes as Alana put her hand back on his cock and stroked him. Merciless, she took his chin in her free hand and forced him to look at her.

“I want to see, Will. I want to see what you look like when I do this to you.”

Will obeyed her as well as he could as she brought him to the edge over and over, just to watch his control crack, and then she stepped back.

Will was shaking, sweating, head bowed.

Alana caressed his cheek to get his attention. She pulled him away from the table by the shoulders and turned him. Gestured to the floor at her side. “Down.”

Will dropped to his knees gracefully, hands still behind his back. Alana leaned back slightly against the table, crossing her pointed black boots at the ankle. Her red wrap dress ended high on her thighs. She tilted her head and considered him. He felt the sharp edge of her curiosity like a physical thing. He saw himself then as she saw him. Felt what she must feel looking down at him on his knees as he looked up at her under his eyelashes, arms twisted up and trapped in his own shirt, skin flushed, curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. He is beautiful and pitiful, shivering with desire.

Will glanced at the floor then looked back up at her. For a shattering second, Alana was Hannibal. Her red dress had become a gory splash across his torso, enhancing rather than concealing his nudity. Hannibal drew his hand seductively over his body and held it out to Will, his bloody palm full of mirror shards. “Tick tock,” he said. He tilted his hand until the bits of red-tipped silvered glass cascaded through the air in a glittering twist, then reached for Will.

No, Will thought immediately. No. Absolutely not. And at that, Hannibal was gone and he could hear Alana speaking to him again.

“No matter how deeply you go…my voice will follow you.” Then, “Are you still with me, Will?"

"Yes, Alana."

She crooked her finger at him and smiled warmly, "Good. Then come."

Will shuffled awkwardly towards her on his knees. Unsteady with his arms pinned behind him. Alana spread her legs as he came closer. He stopped when he was bracketed by her thighs, his face nearly in her lap. He leaned in and nuzzled into the fabric gathered between her legs. He could feel the heat of her even through the cloth. He imagined her slippery and wet under his tongue, the clean salt taste of the sea. He realized his mouth was watering and he swallowed hard before asking, "Please, Alana."

"Please what, Will?"

"Please let me taste you."

She drew her dress up slowly. Beneath it, she was dressed only in darkness. She set her hand to Will's flushed cheek and urged him forward further still.

Will turned his head side to side, the brush of his beard rasping lightly against the smooth tender skin of Alana’s inner thighs. He kissed her there, first chaste and soft, then open-mouthed and humid. He bit down lightly, closing his slightly sharp canines in her flesh until she bucked and moaned.

Will shifted then and ran the tip of his tongue along the soft yielding seam of her over and over, licking her open. His heart was pounding, heat burning in his belly. He pressed his tongue against her entrance and inside. “God, you’re so wet, Alana,” he murmured helplessly.

Will opened his mouth over her clit, licking and sucking. Alana swept her fingers gently through his hair. He listened to her, to the sounds of delight she made as he rolled his tongue against her, to the twist and movement of her body. He wished for the first time that his hands were free so that he could hold her hips and pull her onto his mouth. So that he could press his fingers inside and give her something to tighten around when she came. He wanted to devour her, consume her. To hold part of her inside himself: her kindness, her strength, her resilient hate.

“Oh, Alana. You taste so good,” he whispered against her.

Alana shivered at the flow of his breath over her wet skin. Will’s mind went blank as he sucked harder, eyes closed, intent on pushing Alana towards the edge.

Alana fisted her hands tight in Will’s hair and used his mouth ruthlessly. Her smooth pale thighs pressed to his cheeks. And Will wanted to say _thank you_ and _more_. He wanted to beg, _pull my hair, bruise my back, hurt_ _me_ , but it was not necessary. Alana was already taking everything she wanted from him. One of her spiky heels dug into his back and he arched into the wash of sharp cleansing pain. Yes, he thought. Again. Oh, Alana. Again.

“Oh,” Alana groaned, tipping her head back. “Oh, Will, oh.” She tilted her hips up and back, pressing against his mouth, her stomach muscles trembling and braced tight. Then she curved forward with a high-pitched cry as a wave of pleasure broke over her.

Alana bent and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing and shaking, then pushed him back suddenly and sank to her knees over him, straddling his lap. Will felt her slick hot flesh just above the curve of his hard cock. The fabric of her dress pooling around them. She rested her head on his shoulder, panting, and then reached behind him to untwist his shirt from his hands. Even after he was free, he was unsure whether he could touch until Alana nodded.

“Put your hands on me, Will.”

Will grasped her hips, then ran a hand though her midnight hair and pulled her closer to kiss. Alana was hot everywhere. Holding her was like holding a flame cradled in a ceramic bowl. He cupped her breasts and squeezed. His sensitive hands were greedy in their deprivation. He arched up until the tip of his hard cock brushed against her. Asking without asking.

Alana reached down between them and grasped his cock with one hand, drawing the tip over her slippery opening.

"I want to feel you, Will. I want to use your cock to come again."

"Anything," Will panted, licking her from his lips. "Anything you want, Alana." 

She sank down onto him, taking the heavy weight of his cock deep inside her in a single slick slide. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to him. The sweet wild smell of her was everywhere. He felt the scrape of her dress over his bare chest and thighs. Inside, she was burning like fever.

"Oh my god, Alana," he groaned.

He leaned back on one hand and held her hip with the other. He spread his thighs a little for leverage and canted his hips up tight to her body, sealing her sensitive swollen clit against the base of his cock, encouraging her to use him. He felt himself swell and tighten as Alana threw her head back and rode him at a gallop. He rolled his hips up and back as she rocked and rocked and rocked against him. She pressed her fingers between them to stroke her clit harder, squeezed tight around him as she came again, spilling hot and wet. As she quaked, thighs trembling, he sat up and pulled her down hard, following her over the edge, his lips pressed to her throat.

As his orgasm ebbed, Alana dissolved into mist. The sweet sound of her whimpering and the honey scent at the base of her throat faded as she did. The last thing to go was the sound of her heart pounding like a waterfall. Like water falling. Like water falling on tile.

Then Will was back and the whole world had contracted to this, a steam shrunk bathroom in a cheap motel just outside the first ring of his personal hell.


End file.
